


The Adventures of Brienne & Myrcy

by The1Before



Series: Brienne & Myrcy [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Companions, F/M, Gen, Love, dragon - Freeform, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1Before/pseuds/The1Before
Summary: TBA





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters and locations are not mine. Not-for-profit Fanfic. Un-betaed, mistakes are mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late Hand of the King

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

 

She watched on as the princess stepped forward towards the body, taking care to stand close by without disturbing the Silent Sisters, each ignoring her in turn as their full concern was that of the dead.

The princess stopped a respectful distance from the dais, her young head moving to and fro, her eyes alight with curiosity and sadness but her young face a mask of royal disinterest. The girl had never seen a dead body up close; she had never seen a dead body ever.

“Brienne.”

Brienne stepped forward at the summons and came to stand next to the princess. Her dragon-scale armour silently clicking together as she moved, its clear silver sheen contrasting with the golden hue of the candlelight that was sprinkled all over the floor of the Throne Room.

“Your Grace.”

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” was the princess’s innocent question. Brienne tried not to flinch in response.

 

_She could hear his heartbeat slowing down, it reverberated loudly in her head, even through the heavy rains that washed away the blood that was pouring out of his body._

 

“I have Your Grace,” she answered her princess truthfully. “Too many times,” she muttered under her breath.

“The septons says when we die and if we’re good, our souls will be judged by the Father and be welcomed into the Seven Heavens,” the princess said. She turned to look up at her tall companion, her emerald eyes were full of curiosity. “Is that true, that if we’re good we’ll go to the Seven Heavens when we die?”

“It is not for me to give an opinion regarding your Faith,” Brienne answered, if briskly. Her stance softened at the disappointment on the child’s face. “But I would like to think that if I lived an honourable and good life, I will be rewarded in the next.”

“What would you like your reward to be?”

Brienne answered after a moment, her eyes upon the Iron Throne. “Peace and Happiness.” She looked down when she felt a small hand fit into her large ones and found a pair of sad eyes looking up at her.

“Are you sad Brienne?” the girl looked stricken. “Am I making you sad?” Brienne was quick to soothe the girl and carefully pulled her into her arms, taking care so that her armour was not uncomfortably pressed on the girl’s face.

“ _Kēlītsos_ ,” she whispered, referring to the pet name she had given the girl when she was young. “You are the only happiness in my life.” The girl radiated joy as she tightened her hold on the older woman.

“Myrcella!”

The princess jumped, startled, and turned around. Brienne carefully unwrapped her arms and turned to watch as the Queen walked briskly towards them, while the queen’s twin brother casually followed. Brienne had known of their presence up above the moment she and Myrcella entered the Throne Room. She could hear their entire conversation and took care to ignore the words. The queen’s pungent lavender stench always made her twitch and withhold the urge to gag at its pervasiveness. Its smell reminded her of darker times. Of fire and blood.

“What are you doing here?” The queen asked quietly, but no less sharply.  Her focus was that on her daughter, before aiming a scowl at Brienne. “Why did you bring her here, this is no place for a little girl.” Brienne couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the woman. Comparatively speaking, Myrcella could be thought of as a ‘little girl’ standing next to her. But everyone knew that the girl of ten-and-three was older and wiser than compared to other girls her same age. It could be blamed by Brienne’s ever presence that Myrcella matured faster, being that Brienne was severely older by far. But her rapid maturity was in no doubt entirely a response to her mother treating her as though she was still the chubby little girl that didn’t know any better. That, and use it as a way to get the attention of a disinterested father.

“Mother, it was not Brienne’s fault,” Myrcella defended. “She was following me to where I wanted to go.”

“And you _wanted_ to come here and stare at Jon Arryn’s corpse?” the queen asked sceptically, even mockingly. Brienne could hear the princess gritting her teeth behind her closed lips.

“What I _wanted_ , was to pay respects to the Hand of the King.”

“ _Late_ Hand of the King,” Ser Jaime lazily corrected.  Brienne wanted to smack that smirk off his face. The correction was neither needed nor wanted, judging by the soft scowl aimed at him.

“Why would you want to pay respects to a man you barely knew?” the queen asked, her arms crossed over her chest and looking down at her daughter. Brienne braced herself for the inevitable blow up.

“I knew that man better than any of the men in my own family, save for Uncle Tyrion,” Myrcella bit back. The response caused Jaime’s smirk to disappear and the queen’s eyes to flare in ange, but the young girl wasn’t done yet turning towards her _uncle_. “At least that _man_ took the time to _speak_ with me. At least that _man_ had done something profound in his life, instead of pathetically doing nothing than stand by a door!” Jaime made a barely visible flinch, barely but Brienne caught it. She couldn’t help but notice that he only responded to the last part of that statement.

“Myrcella!” The queen hissed, taking a step forward towards her daughter. Brienne in response stepped forward and pulled the princess back a step behind her.

“I think, Your Grace, it’s almost time for supper,” Brienne said, her words aimed at the girl, but her eyes were on her royal mother. “We should dine in your chambers and rest early. It’s a long journey to Winterfell, we should save our energies for that.”

The princess nodded before walking towards the exit, taking care to keep herself and her eyes away from her mother and uncle. Brienne turned to follow the girl but was hindered by the hand that clawed onto her arm.

“You great sow,” the queen hissed when Myrcella was out of earshot. “What have you done to my daughter?”

“I have done nothing that was not wanted or outside the parameters of my oath.” Brienne answered, fighting the urge to break the queen’s arm.

“She’s a little girl, she does not know what she wants,” was the queens reply, taking care to lower her voice, else her insult could be heard outside their little cluster. “I want you to teach her proper etiquette and how to act respectfully to her betters.”

This angered Brienne so much that she sent a light course of fire down her arm. Not to damage, but more to deliver quick pain. It worked, as the queen gave a small hiss and swiftly let go of the taller woman’s arm.

“Is that not a lesson her lady mother should have given her?” Brienne asked wryly. The question distracted the queen from the inspection of her hand, which was undamaged. “Or her lord father?” Brienne gave a miniscule but pointed look to Ser Jaime, whose face became a frozen mask. When she looked back at the queen, her face became so pale, but her eyes spoke of anger, hatred and a small amount of fear. Brienne pointedly walked away towards Myrcella who stood by the door, her young face full of curiosity. Brienne was thankful her conversation with the Lannister twins was too quiet to be heard by the princess. Half way there, Brienne could not help turn back to deliver one last hammered lesson.

“I don’t serve the King. I don’t serve the Lannisters,” Brienne allowed her true face to appear. She gave a small smirk when she saw the Kingslayer lay a hand on the pommel of his sword before swiftly changing back. “I only serve Myrcella.” Giving them one last mocking bow, Brienne turned and escorted the princess out of the Throne Room, leaving the now-silent twins and the body of Lord Jon Arryn, _Late_ Hand of the King.

 

 

 

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onto Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: in chapter 1

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

II

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Brienne rode on her horse in a gentle trot alongside the monstrously large wheelhouse. The great pale mare, Myrcella gifted her when the foal was just a week old, was gentle and strong. Right now, its head was facing forward occasionally turning right to accept the treats the children were giving her.

 

_“Bri, Bri, Bri!” Brienne turned to watch a seven year old Myrcella run towards her, almost tripping within the voluminous gown her mother forced her to wear. Well…ordered the handmaidens to force the gown on the princess._

_“Your Grace,” Brienne greeted, taking care to kneel so that she was the same level as the princess, which allowed the princess to only need to look up a notch._

_“Look,” Myrcella puffed out before pointing over towards the stables, to find a stable-hand escorting a foal over to them. “Isn’t she beautiful?” The mare_ was _beautiful. Her mane was silky white, while her hide was a shade darker, but no less clean of any colour. “She is only a week old.” This puzzled Brienne, as the foal stood at least two heads taller than the standing Myrcella. “Her father is_ Stranger _.” Ah. Sandor Clegane’s monstrous steed. “She is yours.”_

_Brienne looked to her in surprise, unexpected was this gift._

_“Your Grace, should she not be yours?”_

_“No. I heard warrior knights always had their mighty steeds in their quests. So should you.” Myrcella grinned, proud of herself. She giggled when the foal arrived, its muzzle gently pressing on the child’s cheek._

_“_ Kēlītsos, _” Brienne said gently. “I’m not a knight.”_

_“But you are a warrior.”_

_Brienne smiled softly in defeat. You can never argue with a seven year old who was as stubborn and sweet-faced as Myrcella._

_“Very well then.” If she wasn’t a princess, Myrcella would be jumping for joy. As it was, the princess restrained herself with just clapping and smiling widely. Brienne wanted her to keep that smile. With a family such as hers, there were not many moments to smile freely as she was doing right now. Brienne tugged Myrcella towards her so that the child may use her knee as a seat and both gently caressed the foal. “Then such a mighty mare should have a mighty name. What should it be?”_

_Brienne smiled at the cute way Myrcella bit her lip and scrunched up her nose in thought. Her hair a halo of curls, gold spun in the sunlight._

_“Well her father is named_ Stranger _,” Myrcella began. “And you’re a warrior…so her name should be_ Warrior _,” she nodded in decisiveness. Brienne nodded back formerly._

_“Then that is her name…_ Warrior _.”_

Warrior turned back to face forward, contently chewing on the bit of carrot that the small hand of Prince Tommen gave her. Brienne smiled at the animal, her faithful companion, until another horse head joined her. The white steed, Honor, was trying to get Warrior’s attention and failing miserably. Brienne scowled and rolled her eyes away, for she knew who was there beside her. She didn’t have to see him smirking that smirk that always raised her hackles up. She rallied herself to ignore him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite wench.”

“Well, if it isn’t my least favourite Kingsguard,” she responded, chiding herself. She turned and found him in his standard Kingsguard uniform, complete with the helm. His face was completely obscured, save for his emerald eyes. Eyes that were full of amusement and mischief. “And my name is Brienne.”

“Are you saying I’m _not_ your favourite?” he gasped, grasping his heart like a maiden, ignoring the admonishment all together. “Well in your illustrious opinion, who could be better than me, wench?”

“Well, Ser Barristan has many charms that you certainly lack,” she answered drily, he snorted in disagreement. “Like wisdom and modesty.”

“Well if you connect age with wisdom, than yes Ser Barristan has that in spades.” Brienne frowned and gave him a look. She can see that though the words were supposed to be read as mocking, in his eyes was a well of respect and admiration. The words were his truth. “But modesty. I’ve never ever heard that word used to describe him.”

“Well let’s put it this way, he never struts around like a golden peacock, unlike someone else I know.”

  “Lion, my dear wench,” he smirked sharply. “I strut around like a golden lion.”

“I think you take your House Sigil a little too seriously.”

“I won’t be the only one, wench,” Brienne clenched her teeth to keep herself from responding to that dreaded pet name. “No Stark has never described themselves as wolves, no Greyjoys to krakens, no-”

“No Baratheons to stags,” she interrupted. Jaime’s smirk turned more sharply.

“No Baratheons to stags,” he wryly agreed. The stare they gave each other was pointed, heated and deep with hidden meaning it was a wonder no one can hear the words.

“What’s this about Baratheons?” Brienne broke the stare to find the King riding alongside Jaime’s other side, with Prince Joffrey on the other side of his father. Brienne ignored the grimace that Jaime was trying to hide behind his helm.

“Ser Jaime was _kind_ enough to educate me to the fact that no member of any great or minor House has ever not describe themselves as their House Sigil. I just find the whole concept ridiculous.”

“This from a woman who has no House Sigil,” Jaime mocked.

“This from a man who gave up his golden lion for a field of white,” she parried back. Her aim struck true and she felt a little guilty for the flinch she caused. King Robert laughed jovially, while Joffrey followed, if nothing else for the sake of the father rather than for any real humour.

“Well done, my Lady, well done,” the king chuckled, a flask of wine in one hand. “The Kingslayer is correct however. In my lifetime, I’ve lost the amount of times I’ve called myself a stag!”

“Probably with every cunt he fucks,” Jaime uttered under his breath. Brienne looked at him in shock and horror, but the king continued on seemingly not hearing him.

 “Even Ned and Lyanna called themselves a-” King Robert froze when he realised what he just said and a sad sort of haze fell over his eyes. An awkward silence grew and even Joffrey had the wits about him not to break it or say something utterly unwanted and abhorrent.

“Father.” They all startled and turned to see the innocent face of Tommen looking out through the open shutters of the window. Brienne could tell Tommen had not heard of the conversation, or if he had did not understand the content. Brienne wondered if the rest of the occupants had not heard, but judging by the angry scowl on the Queen’s face and Myrcella’s sweet mask but knowledgeable eyes, they heard quite clearly. “Father are we close to Winterfell yet?” The King swallowed a hearty drink before answering.

“Well it’s already cold as fuck-”

“Robert!”

“We’ve passed Moat Cailin a whiles back and that is the White Knife there in the distance,” Robert ignored his wife entirely. “So any guesses as to how long?” Tommen bit his lip in thought.

“I think one day,” the answer came from an unexpected source. Brienne gave Mycella an encouraging smile.

“Don’t be stupid!” Joffrey snapped. “I reckon five days.” Joffrey puffed his chest in importance which deflated quickly with the king’s response.

“I reckon the maesters have not done enough for your education if you are this stupid,” the king said. He then turned to his daughter, who shrunk back a little. “Well girl, why do you say that?”

“W-well I would have said half a day,” Myrcella stammered out, taking into account of Joffrey’s angry scowl and the queen’s indifference. “But because of our large retinue and our need to look presentable before we enter Winterfell-”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to look normal do we,” was the King’s sarcastic interruption. “But you girl are almost correct. If it was just a single rider or a small group we would be there by now,” the king gave his children a rare lesson, which all three were absorbing with great fervour even if Joffrey was trying not look like he was listening at all. “As such with our pace and our need to look presentable, we’ll be there tomorrow late in the afternoon. Congratulations girl, you’re the only one with a brain underneath all that useless gold.” With that the king trotted away, taking with him the Kingsguard that always followed him. While Myrcella had a quiet smile on her face and Tommen gave his sister a proud grin, Joffrey huffed angrily before riding away.

“It seems the maesters have been giving you the wrong sought of education, if this is what you know,” the queen quietly hissed out, but it was loud enough for Jaime and Brienne to hear outside.

“I answered his question did I not?” was Myrcella’s almost haughty reply. “Besides I was taught that a Lady should know things and to impart them when necessary.”

“And it was not necessary then, he was looking to Joffrey for the answer.”

“And Joffrey answered wrong.” A cold silence was greeted.

“Listen to me Myrcella,” the queen’s voice was quiet but menacing, so much that Brienne almost came closer. “Joffrey is going to be your king, it is not for _you_ to correct him, even _if_ you think he is mistaken. You are going to bite your tongue, or I will make sure you are without your pet.” She can see in the corner of her eye that Jaime was giving her a look of sympathy, but Brienne continued to look forward. She had never felt threatened by the queen or her intimidations. She may not be entirely invulnerable, but she had thicker skin than most. Besides what she most feared was concerning Myrcella than anything focused on her own person.

Suddenly loud banging was heard and the wheelhouse came to an abrupt stop. Before anyone could react, the door banged open and out came Myrcella, her young face in a scowl. Everyone else who stopped with the wheelhouse watched on as the princess stomped towards the king.

“Father,” Myrcella greeted when she stepped in front of him, ignoring the screeching of the queen. “Since I am sorely _lacking_ in knowledge concerning the North, may Brienne accompany me so I may gain the _necessary_ knowledge myself?” Robert gave Myrcella a look, looked at Cersei who was scowling by the door of the wheelhouse then back again. He nodded in acceptance.  Myrcella gave a perfect curtsey, turned around to look at Brienne who nodded and walked towards a wide, green field off the Kingsroad.

“Well wench, don’t do something I wouldn’t do,” Jaime mocked as Brienne dismounted and whispered instructions to Warrior’s ear who flicked her ears in acknowledgement. “We wouldn’t want to present ourselves poorly to the Great Honourable Ned Stark, by your dirty ugly face.”

“Don’t move too much from your high seat Ser Jaime,” Brienne looked straight into his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to soil that _clean_ , pretty white cloak of yours now would you?” Jaime’s eyes suddenly flashed.

“That _clean_ , pretty white cloak soiled me,” he quietly hissed. “Not the other way round.” Brienne frowned before turning away. By the time Brienne made it to Myrcella’s side, her hair was braided back, she had the custom made leather eye protectors already on her face and some of her anger cooled.

“Are you sure, Myrcella you want to do this?”

“If I have to sit with my mother any longer, I will spit back _everything_ I’ve learned in the last few years, loud enough for the Seven Kingdoms to hear.” After Brienne raised her brow in admonishment, the princess held in a breath of calm before saying, “yes Brienne, I’m sure.”

 

 

 

In the distance, the retinue that was left behind watched on as their Princess Myrcella jumped onto the back of her tall guardian. After the princess was secured, the older woman began to run across the field. Before they made it to the end of the field, the view of the princess was suddenly obscured. In one moment to the next, the woman in her silver armour transformed into a mighty white dragon.

_The Blue Eyes White Dragon_ many a folk called her.

It was a familiar sight for many, for the princess would ride on her dragon frequently, but it was no less inspiring and wondrous. They watched as the dragon and her companion flew high into the sky, circled around to fly down close on them, so much that if they reached up with their arms, they could have touched the warm scales of the dragon’s silver underbelly, before with a mighty, earth-shaking roar the dragon flew away towards Winterfell, taking with it the princess’s twinkling laughter.

The party started again when Myrcella and the dragon disappeared from view, but one member stayed frozen. His unfathomable gaze, unlike the others whose envious look was on the princess, was on the dragon herself. It wasn’t until Warrior pressed her muzzle on his cheek that he broke his gaze. Looking at the mare’s eyes that reflected the wench’s frustratingly knowing and bright sapphire eyes gave him prompt to ride forward on their journey to the North.

 

 

 

 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grey Winterfell

 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

III

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

 

Ser Jaime Lannister, knight of the Kingsguard, was bored. Well not bored precisely, more _impatient_.  As a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, there was no need for pomp and pageantry, save for what was thrown at the king. And what a mighty throw the people of Winterfell given their king! No confetti, no cheers, not even any adventurous whores, dangling themselves and their wares out of windows, just grey.

Grey, everything was grey. From the stone building, to the grey direwolf of House Stark on their flags, to the people themselves. Even the snow was grey. The dourest people he has ever seen and headed by the dourest of them all.

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.

As they entered their _grey_ courtyard, Jaime came upon the view of House Stark.

Ned Stark had aged. Not surprising since it had been nearly ten years since he caught sight of the judgemental fool.  Then he was young, fighting fit and dark-haired. Now he aged, not terribly but still aged. It was like the North sapped out any colour and life he had. Grey was his judging eyes, grey was his face and grey now shot through his hair.

By the Gods, he would come to hate this colour.

At least this colour was not predominant in his family.

Lady Catelyn Stark nee Tully. Still fair of face, save for the few wrinkles and laugh-lines around her eyes and lips, with her Tully eyes and Tully red hair. The same could be said for four of her children, the boys and the eldest girl, all with the Tully eyes and various shades of the Tully hair. The youngest girl however, was very particular. Stark through and through. The grey eyes and the dark hair. She didn’t look particularly pretty like her sister, but Jaime could see a beauty underneath that will shine through as she gets older. _Just like Lyanna Stark_.

Jaime shook that thought aside as the main royal party entered, the gaudy wheelhouse and King Robert and his Kingsguard brothers.

As introductions were made, Jaime looked to the sky, searching for the hard-to-miss dragon that should be flying about. The moment the dragon took off to their entrance to Winterfell, Jaime heard his sweet sister spitting fire underneath her breath. While Tommen slept peacefully, Jaime listened to his sister hiss vitriol to her brother through the closed shutters. Intermittent the topic was; between Myrcella, Brienne and Robert (mostly about Brienne for unfathomable reasons) that Jaime grew rather bored and threw his mind back to the past, memories of pleasant things.

Suddenly the sound of a distant roar echoed throughout the courtyard brought Jaime to the present, causing everyone (with the exception of the royal party) to turn all around, trying to find the source of the sound.

“Finally, they’re close,” Robert calmly growled, while the Stark party looked on in confusion. Another roar sounded that seemed to be closer, which seemed to make the Starks’ hackles rise.

“Look!” the youngest Stark boy shouted, pointing towards the sky. They all turned to where the boy was pointing at. They watched as the grey clouds parted and in came through a huge winged beast that was heading straight towards Winterfell. Jaime watched in amusement as the Winterfell crowd twitched in agitation and fear, the knights with their hands on the pommels of their swords, while the Royal crowd just watched on in anticipation.

Robert whistled and a clear aisle appeared between his entourage just as the White Dragon reached the top of the highest towers of Winterfell. From one moment to the next, the white dragon transformed into the woman (with the princess clutching her back) just as she touched the ground, skidded across the gravel and stopped, to kneel before the feet of Lord Stark, who looked pale and nonplussed.

Myrcella enthusiastically jumped off the wench’s back, took off the eye-protectors that basically covered half her face and with a bright smile, gave the Stark family a curtsey.

“My daughter,” Robert wryly introduced. “Myrcella Baratheon, and her companion Lady Brienne.” Jaime saw the slight grimace the wench made before giving the Northern party a slight nod.

Jaime watched as many of the crowd began to whisper between themselves, most predominant was _The Blue Eyes White Dragon_.

“Welcome Princess, my Lady to Winterfell,” Lord Stark greeted.

“Lord Stark,” the princess sunnily greeted. “The North is very beautiful, particularly the lands beyond the Wall.” The entire Northern party froze, while Lord Stark blinked in astonishment.

“Y-you visited the Wall, your grace?” he asked in shock.

“Yes, Brienne easily flew over it,” the princess innocently answered. “Brienne found something when we landed on the Fist of the First Men.” Myrcella brought something out of her leather pouch and nonchalantly placed it in Lord Stark’s hand, who looked particularly spooked at the item. Jaime couldn’t see what it was until Myrcella moved back. There in Lord Stark’s hand was a small plant, a seedling with a distinctive red-coloured leaf, still attached to its bulb. “I thought it might look nice in your godswood, it didn’t look like it belonged where it was.”

“Beg your pardon Your Grace, but I don’t think you know the significance of this plant.” Myrcella looked on in curiosity. “Weirwoods were said to live forever if left undisturbed-”

“You mean I killed it by taking it from its home?!” Myrcella gasped in horror.

“No, no,” Lord Stark quickly corrected and kneeled before the princess. “Forgive the misunderstanding, I meant that because of their relative long age and difficulty in cultivating new weirwoods for the knowledge has long been lost, there has not been any new weirwoods in over a thousand years. This may be the youngest weirwood in existence.” Myrcella looked on in shock and awe at the innocent little plant. “This is a good omen indeed, I am honoured and relieved for such a thing to be left in good hands,” he then gently placed the sapling in the princess’ hands. Myrcella gives him a bright smile in thanks. Then Cersei had to ruin the whole blood thing by stepping up and practically shove her daughter aside for greetings, Robert wanting to go to the crypts to pay his respects and then everything snowballed from there.

When Robert and Lord Stark disappeared from view, Myrcella went up to the Lady of Winterfell and asked for some sheep.

“Sheep, your grace?” asked the nonplussed lady.

“Just the one,” answered the princess. “Brienne flew so fast from the Wall and back, she needs to replenish her energy.” The lady gave the wench a discerning look before leading the princess elsewhere, after getting Cersei’s approval.

For a moment, awkwardness erupted in the air, the people left didn’t know what to do with themselves with the king and both lord and lady of Winterfell gone. Then the wench stepped up and introduced herself to the Stark children, which was amusing as all the children had to strain their necks to look up at her, even Robb Stark.

 “Lady Arya,” the wench greeted, giving the small girl a slight nod.

“Are you really a dragon?” the little lady blurted out.

“Arya!” her sister said, scandalised. But of course, the wench was not insulted, if anything rather amused.

“Are you really a direwolf?” Brienne asked with a small smile, which the girl answered with a grin of her own and moving her head in a negative. Both of their smiles disappeared when an unknown girl from the back whispered to her companion, but was loud enough for the children up front to hear.

“If anything she is a horse.” Jaime heard before a few stifled giggles erupted. The girl being talked about was now frowning, her head lowered in shame.

“Bullying and name-calling are familiar tactics used to get known,” Brienne said after a moment, her eyes were on the downtrodden girl, but her voice was loud enough to carry over the group. “Boring and unoriginal…used by the pathetically boring and unoriginal.” That shut the unknown girls up, and what was left was their silence full of shame and embarrassment, a small girl who was looking up at the wench with admirable worship and smiles on the rest of the Stark children. Brienne gave the little lady a smile and a slight wink before turning to the returning princess and Lady Stark.

“Come on Brienne, I’ve organised a large sheep for you to be delivered to a pen outside Winterfell,” said Myrcella, pulling on the wench’s hand and walking towards the entrance to the courtyard.

“I’ll escort you both out,” Jaime declared before he put any real thought into what he said. Both the wench and his niece looked at him in surprise (he took care not to look at Cersei’s reaction next to him). He walked up to stand next to them, “besides I’m ordered to find my brother, whose visiting an _establishment_ of sorts outside the gates.”

“What sort of establishment?” asked Myrcella. He was saved from answering by the wench, thank the Gods, for he probably looked a little hunted.

“An establishment that would earn you a _long_ tongue-lashing from your mother if she ever heard you going to such places.” Myrcella shrugged, unconcerned, before walking towards the gates, with Brienne and Jaime behind her.

 

 

At the fencing that surrounded a large pen, Brienne continued to walk on towards a large lone sheep, whilst Myrcella and Jaime hung back. Jaime struggled to find words to start a conversation, as they watched on in silence as Brienne knelt down to pet the sizeable sheep. Before anything could be said and done, Brienne made a swift turn of her hand and the sheep laid dead on the ground. The sound of a snapped neck was so loud, it made Jaime flinch, while Myrcella made no movement.

“Are you sure you should be watching this?” Jaime asked.

“This is no different to the other times I’ve had to feed Brienne when she needed it,” Myrcella casually shrugged, but looking at her uncle’s paling face she dropped her nonchalance. “Don’t worry, the first time I watched this happen, I cried and threw up.” They both watched as a stream of fire erupted from Brienne’s mouth, cooking the sheep.

“When was this?” Jaime seemingly unable to take his eyes away from the fascinatingly horrific sight.

“I was nine and Tommen came to me crying saying that Joffrey had killed his cat,” Myrcella recounted while Jaime looked to her in surprise and disturbed. “He brought us to the small courtyard near his suite and we found the mother dead on the ground, her belly sliced open and her unborn kittens spilled bloody on the dirt.” Jaime felt sickened as he heard the disturbing story coming out of the princess. He watched on as Brienne sat down to eat the cooked animal but listened as Myrcella continued saying, “Before we could do anything Brienne picked up the kittens in her palm, covered them in her big hands and quietly muttered something under breath. Then suddenly a flash of light erupted from her hands, nearly blinding us. And then Brienne opened her hands and presented Tommen with the kittens, alive and whole.

“She turned to me and said she needed sheep, naïvely I thought she was asking for more animals to bring back to life, but it was not to be and I worried and surprised her in the end when I started bawling my eyes out,” Myrcella giggled  out.

“Please tell me the other times you’ve seen this spectacle,” Jaime waved at the vision in front of them, “were not in similar nature.”

“No, Brienne only seeks out this sort of replenishment when she has used up too much energy in a short period of time, she would normally eat regular human food. Bringing back animals to life and such was only that singular occurrence.” Jaime exhale of relief was short-lived as Myrcella added on, “If Joffrey was off killing little animals for sport, he did it without our knowledge.” Before Jaime could react to such disturbing imagery Brienne walked back to them, having finished her meal and ending their ‘conversation’.

 

 


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallen Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two posts in two days, was too excited to post this one to wait

 

 

 

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IV

 

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Almost a month they stayed in Winterfell, and Tyrion could not really say he would miss the place. While the whorehouse had its charms and the northern books had its knowledge, Tyrion would confess that he’s rather indulge with both better in King’s Landing even with its obvious downfalls.

Cersei’s disdain was a scar that marred her beauty, even if she would reject the notion of anything that ruined her pretty face. Tyrion happily munched on his bacon as she gave her opinion concerning his future expedition to the Wall.

“Where’s your sense of wonder,” he exclaimed in mock astonishment. “The greatest structure that was ever built. The intrepid men of the Night’s Watch. The wintery abode of the White Walkers. Besides, I don’t have a dragon to escort me from there to the Wall in a day like Myrcella.”

“Speaking of Myrcella,” said Cersei, “where is the girl?”

“Probably traipsing around Winterfell with Brienne,” Tyrion held his face at the slight grimace that appeared on his sweet sister’s mouth at the mention of the dragon. “Unlike yourselves, she and her large companion have taken the chance to explore the place rather than be stuck in this dreary castle. They have made wonders with the people, especially the Stark children.”

“Is Bran alright?” asked Tommen. _Poor innocent child_ Tyrion thought. “I heard he’s going to die.”

“Apparently not,” he answered to the relief of the prince.

“What do you mean?” asked his sister.

“The maester said the boy may live.” He watched as the twins gave each other speaking looks.

“It’s no mercy letting a child to linger in such pain.”

“Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray, unlike Brienne who seems to be able to do more.”

“What do you mean?” asked his sister again, but this time with more agitation.

“Well I’m not certain,” Tyrion hesitated, particularly Jaime’s sudden interest. “But rumors are that Brienne is a consistent visitor or semi-permanent resident in Bran’s chambers, maester wouldn’t tell me why.” _Especially since he seemed befuddled as well_ thought Tyrion.

Suddenly the doors to the breakfast hall banged open and Tyrion turned around to watch as Robert and Lord and Lady Stark enter the hall. Tyrion felt a pang of sympathy for the pale and bedraggled look of Lady Stark, poor woman looked to have years sucked right out of her.

“We’re leaving in first light,” barked Robert.

“Robert, I cannot leave while my son-” Lord Stark pleaded. Robert visibly softened in the face of his old friend.

“I’m sorry Ned, Cat, but I cannot leave the capital unmanned for too long without a king or his new _Hand_ ,” he said pointedly, while Lord Stark sighed in regret and Lady Stark looked about to cry.

“Father, can I stay?” they all turned to see Myrcella at the door.

“What for?” asked Cersei asked before Robert could so much as think of an answer.

“Brienne is here, helping Bran and I would like to stay with her while she…convalesces,” Myrcella answered, Tyrion noticed her hesitation.

“And how would _you_ help in your pet’s convalesce?” Cersei asked mockingly. Tyrion silently sighed.

“How is she helping Bran?” asked Lady Stark, desperation filling in her eyes. “The maester said he might live and it might have to do with Lady Brienne.” Myrcella stayed silent, her eyes shifting from one adult to another.

“Princess,” said Lord Stark. “Lady Brienne is lying next to Bran, her hand clutched to his and every time the maester would disconnect them they both would stop breathing. Do you know why?”

Suddenly Myrcella burst into tears and the men around her stepped back in shock. Suddenly Cersei stood up in concern and went around the table towards her daughter.

“It’s my fault!” Myrcella’s exclamation caused everyone to freeze. “It’s my fault that Brienne is like this, it’s my fault that Brienne and Bran are together like this.”

“What do you mean?” asked the King while Myrcella stopped her tears and looked up at her father.

“I died,” she snuffled. Robert suddenly kneeled before his daughter and took his daughter’s face gently in his hands, while the rest of them were left reeling. “I mean I think I died.”

Myrcella then told them the tale. How Myrcella and Brienne were on one of their travels across Winterfell, when Myrcella grew tired of her needlepoint lessons and could not find her mother anywhere. They were walking across the cobbled stone at the base of Winterfell’s broken tower when the heard a scream above.

“We looked up and saw a body fall fast towards us and then it went black,” Myrcella recalled, her eyes haunted and looking afar. Tyrion saw movement at the corner of his eyes and turned to see Jaime sitting there in shock, his eyes haunted but riveted on his niece.

“The next thing I knew, I was lying down and looking up at Brienne who was crying so hard and clutching at my chest so tightly, a bright light fading,” Myrcella clutched at her own chest in remembrance. “I think Brienne saved me, like with the kittens- remember Tommen,” Tyrion was confused but he watched as Tommen nodded.

“I felt a body next to me and I saw it was Bran, he didn’t wake up when I shook him and I knew he was going to die,” tears again appeared in her eyes as well as Lady Stark’s. “So I pleaded with Brienne to save Bran as well, she tried to tell me she might not have enough strength to save him but I didn’t care. I ordered her to save Bran, and she did!” Myrcella sobbed. “S-she did a-and told me not to break them a-apart and then- and then she collapsed a-a-and wouldn’t wake up and it was my fault!” Myrcella broke down and, for the first time in Tyrion’s memory, Robert hugged his daughter to his chest. They watched on as Robert comforted his daughter as much as a father who has never as so much as touched his daughter.

When Myrcella calmed down, she let go of the king and he staggered onto his feet.

“Please father, let me stay until Brienne wakes up and Bran is better.”

“Very well,” Robert answered after a moment.

“Robert!” Cersei shrieked. “Myrcella can’t stay here.”

“I never said she would be,” Robert said, dismissing Cersei’s concerns. “When Tyrion comes back from his sojourn on the Wall, he will escort Myrcella and Brienne back to King’s Landing.”

“Myrcella can’t stay here,” Cersei shouted again. “She can’t be here, far from home, far from family, surrounded by strangers.” Neither Lord or Lady took offence on being called strangers, by the looks of it neither heard his sweet sister's songs as they were focused on their own quiet conversation. 

“Fine if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Robert said in frustration. “Jaime will be staying with her and will travel with them when they come back.”

“Jaime can’t stay here, he’s the Kingsguard!”

“Well what do you want woman!” Robert finally snapped, his bellow enough for the Starks to focus on the 'conversation' happening in front of them. “You say she can’t be alone, away from family and I offer the answer in the form of Jaime and even that you complain about!

“It’s either Myrcella is here alone or Jaime stays here with his niece. You can’t have both!”

  _In more ways than one_ thought Tyrion as he watched the indecisiveness on Cersei’s face. Jaime then swiftly stood up and took the decision out of Cersei’s hands.

“I will stay here to be with my niece,” Jaime said, he eyes looking straight at the King, rather than the queen who was gritting her teeth.

“Done,” said Robert. With that the King, with one last look at the princess, walked out of the breakfast hall, taking with him the Lord and Lady Stark. Tyrion sat there awkwardly between the twins, one looking at no one, while the other was staring daggers at her brother.  _There is not enough bacon in the world for this_ thought Tyrion as he munched on said bacon halfheartedly. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
